


To Love Every Piece of You

by Leotrix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Curses, Language, M/M, Mild Horror, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Soulmates, after that it gets surprisingly fluffy, but just the first chapter I swear, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-10-23 18:37:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17688743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leotrix/pseuds/Leotrix
Summary: To love someone, you must love every piece of them. Even the dark bitter ones____Harry's life is defined by two monsters. His brute of an Uncle, and the horror under his bed. He is not sure which is worse. But, just maybe, not everything is as it seems.





	1. The Scariest Monster

**Author's Note:**

> ~Mild horror warning for this first chapter~  
> It is not anything too bad, at least to me but I did write it. It is just this chapter! Why is it just this chapter? That will make sense later I swear! Anyhow, this ship has made me want to write fanfiction again for the first time in a while and I am super into it. I have actually already finished the second and third chapters and have begun the forth. I will most likely be posting the second tomorrow! I still need to edit the third more but it should not be too long! I hope you enjoy!

Harry’s life seemed to be centered around two monsters. They both defined his life. One the daytime. The other the nighttime. They were both terrifying in their own ways. He was not sure which was worse.  
  
There was the monster under his bed. It was unnerving. Harry could not remember a time it was not there. It did not appear every night, and while Harry had never dared to do it, he believed if he looked under his bed, it would not always be there. It had long fingers. White, cold, skeletal. They had claws that gripped the threadbare blankets of Harry’s bed. They would tear into it as the monster pulled itself from under the bed. Slowly. Slowly. It would peak out. Only half its face visible. Red eyes glowing in the dark. Harry could make out the outline of its head but not any details. It was black like the night. Just the red glowing eyes that stared, unblinkingly at Harry. Harry would lay curled up on the other side of the bed, never looking away and scared to even blink. If he looked away, what would happen? Sometimes, this was all the monster did. Gripped the blanket with its cold fingers and stared. Sometimes it laughed, a dark, hissing sound that never failed to make Harry shiver. He did not know why it laughed. It always seemed unprompted. Other times, the fingers would grip tighter and it would pull itself out more. Slowly. Slowly. The whole head would peak over the edge of the bed. Its mouth made up of razor-sharp, white teeth. Like the eyes, they were a stark contrast to the midnight black. It would smile at Harry. Laugh. Sometimes a tongue would move across its teeth, leaving red behind. Once, Harry fell asleep on the edge of the bed. He woke up to the monster staring at him, inches away from his face. Harry flew to the other side of the bed and did his best to muffle his scream. His breath was labored as he began to cry, hand over his mouth as he shook. That hissing laugh echoed. Then, very very rarely, almost as if it was a special occasion, the monster came out more. This was what Harry hated the most. A second hand would come out and grip tightly. It would pull, and pull, and pull. A torso would be revealed as it leaned towards the bed. Its arms bent at angles that shouldn’t be possible. It would pull itself up on to the bed, arms bent and head always tilted and twisted at an unnatural angle. It would pull itself completely on to the bed, knees bent wrong. Slowly. Slowly. It would lay down on the opposite side as Harry. It would lay down on its side, one of its hands in the middle of the bed, seemingly reaching for Harry. It would smile, laugh, and stare. Harry felt like he could not breathe on these nights.

But, Harry had doubts that this monster was the scariest. It never hurt Harry, never touched. It was unnerving, appearance wrong and horrifying. But it never touched. Never hurt. Perhaps it was just waiting for the perfect moment.

The other monster was Harry’s uncle. Harry’s parents died when he was young. His only blood relatives did not want him but they were his only blood relatives. His uncle made the best of the situation. He was not terrifying in appearance. He looked like a pasty, bloated whale. He yelled and yelled. He hurt Harry. Dragged him by his arm, his hair. He forced him to do chores around the house. Found any excuse to punish him. Hit. Bruise. Break. Harry was never let outside so no one would ever see his injuries. His aunt never hit him, but she ignored his existence. Yes, his uncle was terrifying in his own way. Perhaps more than the monster under his bed.

What was worse? A terrifying appearance? An abusive brute?  
____

Harry was awoken by pounding on his door. He heard the locks click open one by one. His uncle’s voice shattering through.

“Boy, get up and make breakfast this instant! If you are not quick about it, I will make you regret it!” His voice was thundering. Harry felt it in his chest. He scrambled out of bed and quickly made his way downstairs. His breath was labored. He had a bruised rib no doubt. His eye was swollen and pulsed. He limped due to a leg injury that never healed properly. A leg injury that was done to ensure he never tried to run away again. He tried once. His uncle found him.  
He rushed into the kitchen to make breakfast. Once tabled, he moved to clean up the dishes. Afterward, he was given a piece of bread and his chores list for the day. They came with the usual promise of punishment. Harry ate quickly and moved to his chores. He was dizzy but did his best to push through.

His best was not enough.

The sound of the vase shattering echoed throughout the house. The silence was palpable. Harry’s quick breaths the only noise. Then the thundering footsteps came.  
It was brutal. Harry felt like he was dying.

After the punishment was done, he was dragged by the back of his ragged shirt, the collar strangling him. He was thrown to the floor as each locked clicked back into place one by one. Harry cried. The tears mixed with the blood seeping from his mouth. He tried to push himself up but his arms collapsed under his weight. Eventually, he dragged himself into his bed. Blood seeping into his vision.

Yes, he truly felt he was dying. Harry did not want to die, but how could he live here anymore? Harry dreamed of escaping. Dreamed of turning eighteen and having a better chance of leaving. But here he was, now nineteen and as trapped as ever. Death began to seem to be the only escape.  
Harry did not know how long he laid there but soon darkness came and a hissing laugh echoed. He watched as the hand shot out. It pulled and pulled. It seemed that tonight, was a special night. It pulled itself on to the bed and reached for Harry as it always did. Staring at him with a wide smile. Harry decided at that moment that his uncle was the scarier monster. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it just as quickly. He never spoke to the monster. He was scared of what would happen if he did. He did not want his uncle to hear, and he feared what the monster would say. But, what else did he have to fear now? He was dying. Once upon a time, Harry was brave. He fought back, stood up for himself. But it always ended up worse than ever before. Harry soon learned that bravery had no place in his situation. But, at this moment, perhaps he could be brave again. He took a deep breath.

“Who ar-” he coughed, voice strained from lack of use, “who are you?” His voice was shaking, warbled as he spits more blood out of his mouth. In a way Harry did not think possible, the monster’s smile grew. The hissing laugh filled the room, almost sounding happier than it usually did.

“I am Lord Voldemort.” The voice was as unnerving as the monster itself. It was deeper than anything Harry had ever heard. It sounded as if hundreds of voices were speaking all at once. Harry sucked in a breath.

“Why are you here?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“We’re waiting.”

“Waiting?”

“Waiting for you, Harry.” It laughed again. It sounded delighted. As if this was the best thing to ever to happen to it. As if Harry talking to it was all it had ever wanted.

“Why are you waiting for me?”

“We want to take you with us.” Its fingers flexed like they wanted to reach for Harry and grab him.

“Why haven’t you just taken me? You have had the opportunity.” Harry’s voice was strained and weak. He was unsure of how much he had left in him.

“You have to choose. We can’t do anything. You must do. You must talk to us, touch us, choose to come with us. We must wait until you do something.”  
  
“Will you hurt me?”

“Never. We would never hurt, Harry Potter.” Its tongue curled around Harry’s name like it was its favorite thing to say.

“Never? Truly?”

“Truly.”

Harry began to cry. He was unsure why. He glanced at the hand between them. His hand shook. He slowly slid his hand over and covered the hand with his own. It was smooth and cold. It flipped over and thread its fingers with Harry’s. He cried harder. He could not remember the last time he felt a touch that was not cruel. Harry gripped tighter as sobs shook his body. There was a cooing sound in the air. It wrapped around Harry in comforting warmth.

“You’ll take me from here? I’ll never have to come back?” Each word was labored, but he had to know.

“Yes. You’ll never return here.”

Harry did not hesitate. “Take me. I want to go with you.”

The hand holding his gripped tighter. Its other arm pushed it up, bending at the odd angle. The monster crawled to Harry. It never let go of his hand despite it making it more difficult to reach Harry. Its head hovered right over his. Its eyes mere inches away. It finally released Harry’s hand. He could not stop a whimper from leaving his throat, he missed the contact. The cooing sound filled his ears as the monster leaned closer. Its hand reached up to cup his face. It was huge, covering the entire side of his head. The fingers brushed his cheekbones gently.

“Sleep.”

Harry’s world went black.

 


	2. Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has chosen to go with the monster that lived under his bed. What could this mean for him? Where will he be taken and just why did this monster want to take him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! Thank you for all the wonderful support of the first chapter! It made me want to burst with joy! I said in the note that I would most likely upload the second chapter today and so I decided to stick to that! The third chapter will take more time because it needs some more editing. But, please enjoy this chapter! I like to think of it as the calm before the storm chapter lol

For the first time in his memory, Harry woke up peacefully. He braced himself, waiting for the yelling of his uncle. When it never came, he relaxed. It was then he noticed that what he was laying on what was the most comfortable thing he ever felt. It was soft and inviting. He felt warm. He felt comfortable. He felt...no pain? Yes, he felt no pain. The usual aches and pains that plagued his every day were not present. He could not remember a time he felt like this. It was almost like...magic? Yes, magic. To suddenly not feel the throbbing in his face and chest, the constant twinge of his injured leg. It felt as if all of his injuries had been washed away like they never even happened in the first place. He was scared to open his eyes, scared that this was all a dream and it would end when he opened his eyes.

A hissing laugh sounded through the room. “Harry, Harry, Harry.” The voice whispered. Seemingly delighted beyond belief. It said his name over and over again, almost as if it was reassuring itself that Harry was truly there. Harry opened his eyes. He saw the monster from under his bed, but for the first time, it was not dark. He was lying on the bed next to Harry like he always did. His skin was alabaster, the veins showing under the skin. He had no hair. His face held a serpentine appearance, slits where a nose would usually be. He was wearing a long black robe. Dark as midnight. He was smiling as he always did. Staring at Harry with his crimson eyes. His appearance held a slightly different feel to it. While in Harry's room, he felt monstrous. All encompassing. And now, while he still looked inhuman, he felt lighter. He no longer seemed to fill the room with a sense of unease and terror. Harry reached out shakingly and took the hand once again. This delighted the monster who held on tightly. They laid there for a while, simply staring at each other. He could not describe how he felt. After a bit, he moved to sit up. The monster sat up with him, holding tight to his hand. He looked around the room for the first time. It was a grand room, grander than Harry ever thought he would see in his life. The walls were a soothing gray with green accents. He was currently on a large, four-poster bed that sat in the middle of the room. To his left, there was a window that he could see sunshine filtering through. To the right there were two doors, one opened to show a bathroom. The other closed, presumably leading outside of the room.

The weight next to him shifted and he felt a mouth at his ear. “This is my home. Now, your home too.” The voice caressed his ear. “I will take care of Harry Potter now, yes. Never will he return to that place.” His voice darkened, turned harsh. Harry turned to look at him. He looked furious but when he noticed Harry looking at him his face immediately shifted to a delighted smile. Harry opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by the loud growling of his stomach. He felt his cheeks flush. The monster, or Voldemort perhaps, laughed. He stood from the bed pulling Harry with him. Harry was helpless to do anything but follow. Voldemort led them to the closed door and opened it to reveal a hallway. He pulled Harry through the hallways. Harry could not help but stare at everything they walked past, there were many paintings and decorations covering the ornate walls. Eventually, Harry felt himself being sat down and he looked to see a table filled with food in front of him. His breath stopped. He had never seen so much food in his life. It covered the table, filled with everything imaginable. He could eat this? This was for him? His head turned to Voldemort who had taken a seat across from him. Voldemort smiled and nodded, seemingly already knowing the question he was thinking. Harry looked back at the food. He slowly reached for something. Once he started eating, he could not stop. Harry had never eaten so much in his life; the whole time tears slid down his cheeks. Tears of disbelief, relief. Everything tasted amazing. He could not believe this was really happening. A dark part of him whispered that this was all a dream and he would wake up. There was no way this could happen to him.

As if hearing his thoughts, two hands cupped his cheeks and his head was turned upwards. Voldemort stared down at him, fingers brushing away the tears. Harry’s lip trembled. One of the hands slipped from his cheek into his hair. The fingers brushed through his tangled hair, scratching at his scalp soothingly. Harry’s hand reached up to hold onto the wrist of the hand cupping his cheek. His eyes slipped closed, the soothing comfort flowing through him. When the hand on his cheek made to move away, a whine left his mouth and he held on tighter, desperate to not lose the contact. He opened his eyes to look up tearfully at Voldemort. A coo filled the air as Voldemort kneeled to the floor in front of him. Without a second thought, he slid off the chair into Voldemort’s arms. Voldemort wrapped him up in his arms, his hands ran soothingly down his back. Harry buried his face into his shoulder. This was the safest he had ever felt. It did not matter that Voldemort looked like a monster because he did not feel like one. He felt like a sanctuary. A reprieve.

***  
Two weeks passed by and Harry still felt like life was a dream. Voldemort, while monstrous, was the best companion he had ever had. He was not necessarily the best conversationalist, Harry could tell that he was definitely not 100% sane, but he was enjoyable to spend time with nonetheless. His appearance had since stopped bothering Harry. Now, to him, it seemed normal. His favorite moments were after breakfast. Harry and Voldemort would move to a sitting room that had a large window with the most magnificent view Harry had ever seen. It looked out over a sprawling garden, a garden that Harry himself walked through occasionally, and mountains rested in the distance. They would drink tea, tea that seemed to magically appear like all the other food in the house, and sit in each others presence. Sometimes they would talk. It was mostly one of them talking while the other listened. Harry felt himself opening up in a way that had not happened since he was young. He stopped fearing saying something wrong and instead spoke whatever came to his mind. Voldemort would smile and stay attentive no matter what. He felt pieces of himself that he had forgotten start to surface again. Somedays, Voldemort would walk Harry through the garden explaining every plant. Harry did not recognize any of them but Voldemort was all too happy to explain every single one. While Voldemort was not necessarily sane, he still loved to talk and his explanations were actually quite good.

Despite how happy he felt, Harry still had burning questions he had yet to ask, for he feared the outcome. However, as his confidence grew, one day during their usual time in the sitting room, he asked a question that rested on his mind.

“Voldemort, why were you under my bed? Why did you want to bring me here?” Harry’s voice was quiet, unsure. He did not want to upset Voldemort, but he needed to know. Voldemort got an unreadable expression on his face. He looked out the window for a bit, seemingly trying to determine the best response. He took a deep breath.

“In the library, there is a book, it looks different than all the others. The answer is in there.” His voice was soft, almost reluctant. He turned to stare at Harry. He then stood up and offered his hand. Harry took it without hesitation and let himself be led to the library. Once there, Voldemort released his hand only to cup Harry’s cheek instead. His thumb ran over his cheekbone. His face held a deep melancholy and an overall sense of regret. With one last deep look, he dropped his hand and left the room saying that he would be in his office. Harry turned to the library and apprehension grew at the sight. It was huge! Countless bookshelves that raised to the ceiling filled the entire room. How was he supposed to find one specific book amongst all of these with his only clue being that it looked different? His hand clenched at his side as he let out a sigh. He moved to the far left of the room. He might as well get started by going through the bookshelves one by one. He scanned them and saw countless titles of books that made no sense to him. However, each book was different from the others. How was he supposed to know what the true different one was? Despite his worry, Harry steeled himself and determinedly made his way through the shelves. After about two hours, Harry felt more discouraged than ever. This seemed pointless. Why could Voldemort not just tell him which book it was? Or better yet, just tell him what was in the book! He decided that he would seek out Voldemort and try to get a clearer answer out of him. He would never find the book with just the information he had now.  
  
He made his way to Voldemort's office. Once there, he knocked once before pushing open the door. When he entered, Voldemort was looking up at him with an expectant, almost wary look. He looked at both of Harry's hands but after seeing nothing he looked back up with slight confusion.

"I cannot possibly find the book with just the information you gave me. Is there any way you can make it clearer? Or better yet, just show me the book?" Harry stepped closer until he was directly in front of Voldemort's desk. Voldemort sighed.

"Unfortunately, I cannot just show you the book. However, I can give a little bit more information about it. But, beyond that, I can do nothing. You're looking for a journal. It is handwritten. It is black with gold edges and there will be a name on it. The name will be Albus Dumbledore." He sighed heavily and stood up to move around the same side of the desk as Harry. He once again caressed his cheek. "I wish for you not to read it, but I know I cannot and should not stop you. Just please, read it in its entirety and I beg of you not to think of me differently." He swept his thumb across Harry's cheek one last time before sweeping out of the room.  
  
Harry stood there a bit stunned for a moment. Voldemort had never spoken so clearly, so sanely before. And the look of in his eyes almost resembled turmoil. Now, Harry himself was unsure if he wanted to read the book. Voldemort had been so good to him. He was his savior. His first companion. He did not want to lose that. But, the curiosity in him was consuming. He made up his mind and headed back to the library to look more.  
  
After what felt like hours, Harry found the book. He pulled it slowly off the shelf. The book was well worn and his hold was cautious. The book did not look like it could handle much more. He gently ran his fingers over the cover. The edges were beaten, almost as if it had been thrown against a wall multiple times. There were dents on the book as well. Like a fist had taken its anger out on it. The book had not been cared for. Hesitantly, he opened it. As Voldemort said, it was handwritten in elegant, sweeping cursive. The first page held just a title.

_"The Curse of Tom Marvolo Riddle."_

Harry quickly moved to a seat in the library and began reading.

_" Hello, my name is Albus Dumbledore, and if you are reading this, then you are very important to this story. The first step would be to introduce you to Tom Riddle. You may know him as Lord Voldemort. Tom Riddle was a boy with great potential. If he so chose, he could have changed our world completely and with ease. But, his heart was dark. Darkened by years of mistreatment that left him bitter and vengeful. I tried to help him, but I never reached him. He grew up cruel and conniving. Many suffered at his hand, and if I had not made the choice I did, I am sure many would still be suffering at his hand. It was with a heavy heart that I chose to place this curse on Tom, but I feared there was nothing else that could be done. He was much too far gone and no one could save him._

_Now, his curse is unique, and one of my own design. It is directly tied to his soulmate. If you are reading this, then you are Tom Riddle's soulmate, Harry Potter. This may be shocking to you, and I apologize for the suffering that my decision has caused you. I only hope that if you are to the point of reading this, that you are no longer suffering. However, unfortunately, your trials are not over. For Tom's curse to be broken, you must accept every piece of him. Even the dark, dreadful ones. Most certainly, the first stage will be the most difficult for both of you. Tom will be forced to watch you suffer from the sidelines. Suffer in ways so much like his victims. He will be unable to do anything but watch this happen. He cannot approach you, talk to you, or touch you. His form will be his worst. Over time, due to his dealings in dark magic, his form deteriorated until he achieved a form more like a monster than human. He will be terrifying to you, I am sure. He will most likely spend many years watching you suffer. And to Harry, reading this, I am deeply sorry for the suffering I have caused you. I believe I could never ask for your forgiveness. But, I had to orchestrate your life in such a way. I had to put you with your Aunt and Uncle. I had to remove your parents from your life. I had to keep you from the life you once had, the life you could have had. Yes, I knew you, Harry. A young babe beloved by your parents. When you were born, and your ties to Tom revealed, I knew I had to act and I am sorry for the life I deprived you of. I am sorry that I forced you to bear the burdens of my mistakes with Tom, but it had to be done. Tom must learn remorse. He must witness what he caused to so many others. He must witness true suffering with no means of ending it. And the best way to do it will be with you, his soulmate. So, you see, I had to do it. I am sorry. Sorry for your suffering. But hopefully, now, the future will be bright. The way past this stage will be difficult for you. You will have no way of knowing that Tom is anything but a monster. You will fear him. And to break the curse, the fear must be overcome. When that happens, Tom will take you to his manor. He and you are unable to leave the grounds. That will be your truth until the curse is broken. Forever, if need be. However, reading this means that you have overcome that fear, and I applaud you for tackling the hardest part._

_As aforementioned, the curse can only be broken if his soulmate is to accept every part of him. The next part will take place at the manor. Tom will still hold his inhuman appearance but he will be less terrifying. This part is about accepting the monster of Tom's past. Tom, Voldemort, was a tyrant. He killed and tortured many and lacked any form of remorse. He was a monster, and this is something you must understand. I believe that Tom can be saved. Saved through love. But this can only happen if you understand and accept his past because it cannot be changed. If you can truly in your heart accept this and help him move forward, the next stage will begin._

_You will face three more versions of Tom. They will all have his issues. His anger, his arrogance, and his fear. The only way forward is through acceptance. Yours of him, and his of you._

_I once again apologize for this, but I believe it was my only choice. I wish you luck with Tom. I truly believe you are his last hope._

_Albus Dumbledore."_

Harry's hands shook. They trembled. The book tumbled out of his hand to the floor, no doubt receiving more damage to its already damaged form. His hands came up to cover his face as he hunched over. He felt overwhelmed. But most of all, angry and sad. Anger at this faceless Dumbledore. By cursing Tom, he cursed Harry to his miserable 19 years of existence. Every punch, every beating, every starvation was signed by the name Albus Dumbledore. The loss of his parents. The lack of love in his life. All caused by this man. Harry hated him. He did not care that this was supposedly for the "greater good." Fuck, that. Harry suffered and nearly died for the greater good. Why should he have to bear the weight for so many others? Why did he have to suffer? And what if it never worked? He could have died, nameless and alone to the pounding fists of his uncle. A sacrificial lamb raised for slaughter.  
  
Underneath this anger was sadness. He thought of Voldemort, Tom. Voldemort was everything to him. It was hard to imagine him as cruel when he had held Harry so gently. So full of care. He thought of the young Tom, who supposedly suffered from an unpleasant childhood like his own. He had his doubts that this Dumbledore really tried to reach out to him. But, this could be his own hatred speaking. His heart ached, for a young Tom suffering as he did. But, he also could not just excuse his hurt of others. This weighed on him heavily and Voldemort's parting words made much more sense. He feared Harry hating him for his past.

Did Harry hate him? He knows what it is like to be at the mercy of a cruel man. Shouldn't he hate Voldemort for inflicting such a thing to others? Shouldn't he hate him for being a monster?

No. Harry did not think it was possible for him to hate Voldemort. He was his savior. Harry had to believe that he could change, move forward. His past was not excusable but it cannot be changed now. But his present, that was the gentle hands that held Harry's. It was the enthusiasm in which he talked to Harry about anything. It was the soft look in his eyes as he listened to Harry speak. It was the warmth that he provided him. No, he could never hate that.

Filled with resolve, Harry stood quickly and left the library. He had to find Voldemort. Much to his surprise, when he opened the door he ran directly into him. A small gasp left his lips as he stumbled backward. He looked up to meet Voldemort's crimson eyes. They were apprehensive. Closed off. As if they were awaiting dismissal. Unable to contain his feelings, Harry flung himself at Voldemort and wrapped his arms tightly around him.

"I cannot say that I do not care about your past, because I do. I do not like it." The arms around him tensed. "But, your present, what you are to me now, is so much more important to me. I cannot picture my life without you now. You saved me and were kind to me in a way that I had never experienced. I do not wish to ever be separated from you. Even though your past was dark, I hope your future, a future with me, can be light." Harry was crying now. His face pressed into Voldemort's chest. His arms tight, he never wanted to let go.  
  
Voldemort was shaking. His arms tightened and he leaned over Harry as if trying to completely surround him. His face was buried in Harry's hair.

"Oh, my Harry." His voice was raspy with emotion like he was holding back tears. "You are truly my greater in every way."

Harry did not know how long they stood there in the library doorway. It felt timeless to him as he stood there in Voldemort's arms. It was the only place he wanted to be and the safest he had ever felt. Eventually, an arm slipped to his thighs and hoisted him up. His legs went around Voldemort's waist as he was carried to his room. Voldemort slept with him that night, arms around him tight, never once letting go.

 

*** 

Next Chapter Title: Anger

Summary: Harry's peaceful time with Voldemort has come to an end. Suddenly, he is dealing with the overwhelming storm that is Tom Riddle's anger. How can he, someone who freezes in the face of anger, deal with such a person? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! I am not 100% sure on when the next chapter will be posted but it should be in less than a week. I just need to edit it! But, I would like to finish the fourth chapter before uploading the third so that is the biggest thing. Thank you again! (P.s. can you tell I am not Dumbledore's biggest fan? lol)


	3. Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's peaceful time with Voldemort has come to an end. Suddenly, he is dealing with the overwhelming storm that is Tom Riddle's anger. How can he, someone who freezes in the face of anger, deal with such a person?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! First off, thank you so much for the lovely response for this fic so far! Every kudos, comment, and bookmark mean so much to me! Every time I see them I get a stupid smile on my face. I hope you enjoy this chapter! I am not 100% satisfied with it but at this point, I am not sure what to change so I guess it is just time to post it!  
> Thank you for reading!

Harry awoke alone the next day. He sat up dazedly and was surprised by the amount of sunlight flickering in. He slowly got up and moved to the bathroom. After showering and getting dressed, he moved to the dining room. Like usual, there was an enormous amount of food awaiting him. Not like usual, there was no Voldemort. Harry sat down, suddenly filled with anxiety. Where was he? Why was he not eating with him like usual? Harry began hesitantly to eat. After a few minutes, after his anxiety continuously rising, the door slammed open, banging the wall with a deafening sound. A tall, imposing figure swept in. Harry sucked in a breath. It was a man. An incredibly handsome man. He was tall, much taller than Harry could ever dream to be, had dark brown hair that was pulled back to the nape of his neck with a ribbon, and he had an aristocratic, timeless face. But, the most striking feature, was the familiar crimson eyes that were fixated on him. Unfamiliar, they were filled with consuming anger. Harry felt fear for the first time since he arrived here.

"Harry Potter, I assume?" His name was spat out like a curse. In no way like Voldemort who seemed reverent every time he said Harry's name. Harry nodded. He felt himself sinking further into his chair, fear gripping him. "Hm," he sneered, "you hardly look like much. Pathetic even." Harry felt himself break a little bit. He would not cry, he could resist it, but he wanted to. Suddenly, he regretted reading that book. Even if they were stuck here forever, forever with the gentle, albeit not sane, Voldemort, it was infinitely better than this.

"You can call me Marvolo, I suppose. However, I doubt we will be speaking much anyways. If it was not for that damned Albus Dumbledore we would not be here anyway. I have no need for this soulmate nonsense. You would do your best to stay out of my way." His voice was hard. Cruel with the repressed anger of decades.

Harry felt lost, how was he supposed to deal with this? He was supposed to accept this? This was his soulmate? This angry beast of a man? He seemed more like a monster than Voldemort. Harry felt himself slipping back into his numb state. The state he used to deal with fear, the state he used to protect himself. The state that the happy times with Voldemort began to bring him out of. The little confidence he had gained withered away. Harry pushed himself out of his chair suddenly and fled the room. He heard a scoff behind him. He fled to the sitting room that he spent countless hours talking with Voldemort in. As he fell into his usual chair, and the tea appeared like always, he began to cry. It was a quiet, body-wracking kind of cry. He trembled as he hunched into himself. He brought his feet into the chair with him and curled up. How could he do this? He was stuck here now with a person who felt like they were one wrong word away from beating him as his uncle would. He sat there for what felt like hours. Long past his last tears, long past the cooling of the tea. Eventually, he lifted his head. His eyes felt crusty with the dried tears.  
  
When he looked up fully, he was met with the sight of the beautiful garden he had grown to love. Memories of walking through it only a few days ago flashed in his head. Oh, how he wanted to return to that time. But, currently, it seemed the only way forward meant dealing with Marvolo. The anger in personified form. He took a shuddering breath. How could he do that? Anger made him shut down. And not only did he need to accept Marvolo, but Marvolo also had to accept him. He already thought Harry pathetic, so they were not off to a strong start. How to deal with anger? Once upon a time, before it was beaten out of him, Harry was defiant. He stood up, fought back. He had what felt like unwavering confidence. Could he be that way again? It seemed impossible. But, Voldemort's face flashed in his mind. He felt the phantom caress of his hand on his cheek. Harry sniffled. If he ever wanted that again, he would have to be brave. He would have to face Marvolo.

He was still trembling. Perhaps, facing him could wait until tomorrow.  
***  
The rest of the day was mostly uneventful, which was fine by Harry. He ended up not crossing paths with Marvolo again, even during meal times. For this, he was grateful. He needed to build up confidence and he was sure that meeting with him again so soon would crush what little he had. He awoke the next day with cautious confidence. He did not know if he would legitimately be able to face Marvolo, but he would try. His plan was to start small. He remembered the scoff as he fled yesterday. As if he was proving every thought Marvolo had of him as right. Today, and moving forward, he would not allow the man the satisfaction. He may not be able to use his words right away but he was determined to not let the man visibly get to him. He would stand tall and not give him the ability to delight in his apparent weakness.  
  
Plainly put, should they cross paths, Harry will ignore him. Hold his head high, and let his anger brush off of him.

Or, he would sure try to do that.

It seemed he did not have much time to prepare for the inevitable confrontation because Marvolo walked in the dining room for breakfast much like he did the previous morning. With a door slam and angry steps. His eyes immediately moved to Harry and a sneer crossed his face. He was displeased that Harry was in front of him, no doubt. Harry steeled himself for the words that were sure to come. He would not waver.

"Here again, Harry Potter? And here I thought that you learned yesterday that I have little tolerance for those who are of no use to me." His words wore anger and frustration proudly. He seemed to thrive off of anger. He seemed unable to feel anything else. Harry met his eyes. He did his best to hold his chin up. His hands were shaking but he kept them in his lap as so to keep them out of sight. He stared at Marvolo with the most defiant look he could manage. He wasn't sure if it was that great, but he held it anyway. The anger in those eyes seemed to grow. Grow to flames that were surely consuming.  
  
"Insolent boy," Harry had to contain the flinch that wanted to come out at that familiar word, " You dare to challenge me? Lord Voldemort? Your greater in every way?" His voice was deafening in its silence. It was not a loud angry. It was the quiet kind that slowly burned away what was in its path. Harry did not really think he outrightly challenged the man, but Marvolo probably was not used to others staring at him as opposed to trembling (granted, Harry was most certainly trembling). However, his words stood out to Harry. That phrase that was so similar and yet so opposite to the last words Voldemort said to him. Voldemort had held Harry in high esteem, the highest. Marvolo held him at the lowest. He thought back to the way it felt to be in Voldemort's arms that night, the safety, the love. He wanted it back. But instead, in front of him, was the human personification of an unyielding rage that had never had a single brave soul stand up to it. A person, so shaped by the fear of others, that functioned solely on anger. He was jaded, bitter, resentful. No one stood up to him and told him to stop. And, so, he didn't. Harry felt a resolve he could have never imagined. Marvolo, this beast, needed someone to stand up to him. And if it made the anger worse, like Harry was sure it would, Harry could handle it. He handled his monster of an uncle, he could handle this man. If he wanted Voldemort back, his savior, then the only way was through the unyielding fire of Marvolo.

Harry stood up.

"You're sad." Harry's voice was not without wavering. It shook, but he kept going. "You are so consumed by your anger that you are hardly a person anymore. People called the Voldemort who saved me a monster, and he honestly looked like one, but you are more of a monster than he ever was. And it saddens me. I pity you. I pity you because of what you are not. You are not a functional human being! You think anger is the way to go? Fuck that!" Harry's hands were fisted at his side, shaking with the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. Marvolo took a threatening step towards him. The fire in eyes ignited in a new way.

"You dare to speak to me that way? I could ruin you! You are nothing to me. You are just a pathetic boy with a pathetic childhood. No one would even care if you were gone, least of all me." Marvolo's voice was acidic. Each word intended as a knife into Harry. And they most certainly hit their mark. He shook, stumbled back a bit, but tried his best to stand up tall again, hold his chin up.

"Voldemort would care. The piece of you that you replaced. Your better. He would care! He saw the benefit of the companionship of others! He saw that living alone on a mountain top by yourself, looking down on others, was not the way to live any longer." His voice was loud. It seemed loud was the only thing he could be right now. Marvolo closed the rest of the distance until he was directly in front of Harry. He was seething.

"I am Lord Voldemort. Not that pathetic piece of me that you met. No sane part of me would truly care for you."

Harry, consumed by whatever he was feeling, made an impulsive choice. The sound of his hand slapping against Marvolo's cheek echoed throughout the otherwise quiet room.

"You're a fucking prat." Harry's voice, for the first time today, was without waver. It was strong and sure. Wanting to end with the last word, Harry backed up, with his chin as high as it could go, and walked out of the room calmly. He walked back to his room without stopping. Once he was safe in his room with the door shut, he collapsed to the floor, too lacking in energy to make it to his own bed. He laughed. He laughed until he had fallen to his side and could barely breathe. He was crazy! He could hardly believe he actually slapped the man! His laughter held a crazed edged. He was overwhelmed by all of the emotions coursing through him. He laid there until he had calmed down. His laughter reduced to the occasional chuckle that shook through him. He held the hand that had slapped Marvolo. What a choice he had made. He was unsure if he could ever face the man again. It seemed every bit of confidence he had built up was used to fuel that slap.

But, oh, did it feel good. The look of shock that crossed the crimson eyes was delicious. Harry had not felt so satisfied in so long. He was sure that no one had ever done something like slapping him before. And to be the first felt sweet. Potentially knocking some sense into the man sounded wonderous. Harry was unsure how exactly he would go about accepting this piece of Tom, but at least there was a change. He felt better than he did yesterday, crying in the sitting room. He felt light. He did not want this piece, Marvolo, to think him pathetic any longer. He spent the first 19 years of his life being reduced down to pathetic, and he would not stand for it any longer. He would not let a man wither him into submission ever again. He would face Marvolo.

But, first, he thought he definitely deserved a nap. Facing Marvolo could surely wait. Besides, according to that damned book, they had forever anyways.

***  
Later that evening, after he had awoken from his nap, Harry sat in bed knowing he needed a plan. As much as he currently detested the man, he needed to grow to accept Marvolo. And to do so, he knew he needed to create some kind of understanding between them. Some kind of positive memory. That was the only way. But, he was unsure how they could even have a calm moment when Marvolo was literally the embodiment of Tom Riddle's anger. He was made up of it and seemingly nothing else. How could you reason with that? With the antithesis of the anger? With an unwavering calm in the face of a violent storm? Harry took a shuddering breath. He would have to try. He just wished he had some kind of help. Something more than the frustratingly lacking words of Albus Dumbledore. Maybe the library? He stood. It could not hurt. He began the familiar path to the library. He paused as he passed Voldemort's office. If only he was still here. Harry reached up and lightly hit his own cheeks. In a way, he was still here. He just had to find him. Find him underneath everything else. Resolute in his resolve, Harry continued his way to the library. Once there, he was not really sure what he was looking for. Anything that seemed as if it could help would do. He perused the huge shelves with little hope.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the book written by Dumbledore; it was still laying open on the floor where it had fallen out of his hands. He cautiously walked towards it and picked it up. It was still on the final page he had read. Hesitantly, he turned the page. Perhaps there was more written in the book. Maybe, something that could help him. Sure enough, there was writing on the next page, however, it was clearly done by a different hand. It held the characteristics of an elegant cursive, but it was marred by what seemed to be a shaky hand. As if the person writing it was not in the right place when they wrote it. Harry's brow furrowed as he looked over the words. Some of it did not even seem coherent. Words were hard to read and the sentences were choppy and lacking in sense. Harry slowly moved to sit down and tried to make sense of the writing. The only message he could get from the scribblings was the overall sentiment of hate. Hate for Albus Dumbledore. Harry turned the page. The writing was a bit more legible on this page, albeit still very messy. It was much of the same. Harry flicked through the pages until he found a page where the handwriting was crisp and clean. He paused and admired the elegant script in its true form.

_"I feel as if I have failed a person I have never met. I do not like the sensation of failure, but every night I feel it most extremely."_

Harry sucked in a sharp breath.

_"In the beginning, I scoffed at the whole notion. Lord Voldemort had no need for a soulmate. Lord Voldemort stands above all others. However, the boy has a spark to him that I must admit over time has become most intriguing. But, Dumbledore, do not think you have won. You have not bested me. You could not best Lord Voldemort. However, unfortunately, watching the boy is becoming more arduous every night."_

Writing like this continued for a while. It mostly seemed like Voldemort talking to the faceless Dumbledore, telling him that he had not won. It seemed, with the lack of the actual Dumbledore, Voldemort spoke to him in the only way he was able to. Through the journal that Dumbledore had written in himself. Harry slowly flipped through the pages, and curiously, after a bit, he noticed the writing to once again lose its crispness. It became shakier and shakier until it once again reached an almost illegible quality. Now, though, the sentiment was not hatred, but more akin to sorrow. Harry saw countless rambling apologies. All written to him. Apologies begging for forgiveness for such a life. Begging for him to chose to go with Voldemort so he could be saved from his life. Harry felt his eyes begin to tear up. His hand reached up to scrub at his eyes as he felt overwhelmed with emotions. He continued to flip through the book until he reached the final page. The handwriting was shaky but legible.

_"Harry, Harry, Harry. I could never change what was done to you. I only wish you to see past my past and my present. I am not a good person. I am not sure I ever will be. But, I think I can be a good person for you. I am sorry for what you will face. I know the other versions of me will be just as bad, if not worse. I am sure my anger will be terrifying to you. Your life has been so shaped by it and to suddenly receive it from me, I am sure will be devastating. My only advice is do not take it. I never have had someone stand up to me. Most just cower, which in a way fuels that anger of mine. I need someone to respect. And my arrogance. In my youth, I strived for perfection in every way. I had to be better than my past and it was consuming. I am sure this version of me will expect a lot from himself and you. He needs to loosen up a bit I presume. And my fear, I really do not know what you will get from that and I only hope it isn't ruining. Harry, I hope you come with me soon. I do not know how much more I can take of your suffering. It pains me when I think of how your life could have been. Come with me. Come with me. Choose me,"_

The rest of the writing deteriorated and there were dried wet spots on the page. The writing was surprisingly coherent, in a way that reminded Harry of when Voldemort gave him the second information about the book. Once again, the book fell from Harry's hands as he hunched over onto himself. He took deep breaths, trying to calm his shaking sobs. He cried to himself until he was exhausted and sticky, dried trails marked his face. He slowly leaned back and tried to gather himself. He lifted his shirt to wipe away the remnants of his tears. He took deep breaths and sat there until his face no longer felt hot.

Stand up to him? Well, Harry tried that yesterday and he feels as if he could not gather any more confidence than he already did. But Voldemort himself said that no one had ever done it before as Harry had expected. He would just have to be strong or at least pretend to be. It was all he could do if he ever hoped to see the softer side of his soulmate ever again. He shakily stood up and decided to continue his original goal of looking through the bookshelves. At this point, it would just hopefully help clear his mind. He doubted that he was ready to face Marvolo again that day, but he could still prepare.

It was when he moved to the second shelf that the universe decided to do its own helping. Marvolo strode in with all the force of a storm he usually carried. When he spotted Harry, he scowled. He started to open his mouth as to speak but Harry beat him to it.

"I live here too, you know. You are going to have to stop getting upset every time you see me. It seems like such a waste of energy." Harry gave an unimpressed look as Marvolo's scowl deepened. He once again made to speak and Harry once again cut him off. "Spare me the insults today, yes? The past two times have been remarkably similar and obviously, have not achieved the results you so desired." Harry felt giddy at his own confidence. He liked the idea of stopping the infuriating man before he could do something infuriating.

Marvolo's face was blank now. An unreadable expression on his face as one perfectly manicured eyebrow (how extra, Harry thought) rose higher than the other. "You seem to think you now can guess whatever it is I plan to say?" His voice was haughty, but...it did slightly lack the fire he had come to associate with the man.

"I am just making assumptions based off of previous evidence. You seem to only have one train of thought around me. Just saving you the trouble." Harry shrugged. He was doing his best to put off an air of ease. He wanted to seem confident. He wanted to make sure the man did not receive the satisfaction of getting to him. In reality, he was freaking out on the inside. He did his best to maintain his confident outside appearance. Inside, he was trembling. But, he kept thinking of Voldemort's words in the journal and did his best to use them as motivation. Marvolo crossed his arms and continued to stare at Harry with the one raised eyebrow. "Surely, you have other things you wish to talk about hm? I can be a good listener you know." This was Harry's attempt at an olive branch. A middle ground they could reach. He knew that progress would not be made unless he was the one to make it. The other man was far too stubborn and prideful. Marvolo's lips pursed at his words.

"And pray tell, what would I possibly gain from talking with you?" His nose was in the air, a snootiness that Harry was sure took years to master. He shuffled his feet a bit.

"Well, you seem to have a lot of pent up emotions and well, I heard once, that it can be good to let them out. To vent, rather than hold them all inside of you." His voice was fainter now, slightly less sure. He wanted to make this work. Right now he had no positive feelings about the man - except perhaps that he was stupidly attractive for such an aresehole - but he wanted to. This was his soulmate. This was the one person who should be able to make it work. The person he was meant to potentially find forever comfort with. "It was just a suggestion...I guess...If you don't want to, that's okay too." His voice trailed off, even more, unsure than it was before.

Marvolo stared intently at him. Seemingly contemplating what he said. Then, suddenly, he turned and made his way to the small sitting area in the corner of the library. A set of tea appeared out of thin air on the table. Harry's heart ached at the somewhat familiar sight. He timidly made his way over and sat in the chair across from Marvolo.

"You are to simply listen. If I want to hear from you, I will make it known. Understood?" His voice was hard with the tone of someone who was very used to others automatically submitting to him. Harry, not wanting to ruin this tentative moment, simply nodded his head.

And then, a rant like nothing Harry had ever heard began its seemingly unending run. One major similarity between Marvolo and Voldemort seemed to be their penchant for talking. His hands waved as he talked. Harry did his best to grasp everything. He heard talk of the faceless Albus Dumbledore. Marvolo seemed to have the same distaste for the man. Calling him a worthless old coot who did not understand that he did not need to meddle into everything. He cursed a man with the name Dippet, who did not give him a teaching position he asked for. He cursed spineless pureblood wizards (wizards?). He cursed an orphanage that the mere thought of brought down a dark cloud on his face. Marvolo, it seemed, held anger towards just about everyone he had ever met. Furthermore, it felt as if he never had let himself freely voice these thoughts. He had kept them bottled inside, festering until they became the fuel that powered his every ambition. And he was ambitious in spades. His whole life was driven but the neverending need to be better and to outshine his pitiful childhood. And he held anger, rage towards every person and everything that ever hindered him. Marvolo clearly had never had a person he let himself rely on, open up to. No one to bear the feelings he had inside of him alongside him. To ease the load that rested constantly on his heart. No doubt, a result of a childhood spent alone with no one he trusted. He talked for hours. Long after the tea was finished and the light had faded. Harry felt a slight hunger in his stomach but did not dare to move. Throughout his time listening to Marvolo, his heart ached. Here was someone, just like him, whose childhood was marred by the uncaring incompetence of the adults around him. He was someone jaded by the same experiences that broke Harry. Only, Marvolo never had a Voldemort. He never had someone who pulled him from the depths of his hurt and held him. Someone to just unbiasedly listen to him and allow him to express his emotions. He instead grew up, and fully succumbed to the darkness inside of him.

When he finally paused, took a deep breath, and leaned back in his chair, Harry moved without a second thought. He crouched down in front of the now haggard man and wrapped his arms around him. The man froze under him. Harry had not forgiven fully what cruel things the man had said to him, he would not until an apology was given, but he was exhausted just listening to the pent up feelings of this broken man. If he himself was in that position, he figured he too would want a hug. Marvolo did not move.

"What do you think you are doing?" His voice was slightly higher than its usual timber like he was in disbelief over this turn of events.

"I'm hugging you."

"Why?"

"Because I feel like you need it."

A shuddering breath moved through the man in Harry's arms. Slowly, hesitantly, strong arms wrapped back around Harry. Harry sucked in a breath and held on tighter to Marvolo. They sat there for a few minutes.

"Why do you think I need a hug, Harry?"

"Because you have been holding on to all of those feelings and thoughts for so long. I am sure you are exhausted. You're still a right git, but I guess that does not mean you don't deserve a hug."

"You think insults are also going to help?" His voice was drawling...almost teasing?

"You cannot deny that you have said awful things to me. But, I am willing to consider forgiveness." Marvolo simply let out a small hum as his arms grew tighter around Harry. More sure of themselves. Harry shifted a bit so he was more comfortable but made sure to not loosen his arms any. If he had to hug out the anger in his soulmate, he would.

After an indistinguishable amount of time, could have been hours or merely seconds, Harry's stomach let out a loud growl. His face flared up and he groaned. He was about to apologize when he realized that Marvolo was shaking. His concern was quickly placated when he looked up and realized that the man was laughing. It was silent like he was trying to contain it but his eyes were shining with mirth that Harry never thought he would see. It was mesmerizing. A beautiful light that enraptured him immediately.

"Hungry?" Marvolo's voice was filled with amusement as he raised an eyebrow in question. Harry just dumbly nodded, still under what felt like a spell. "Well, then you will have to get off of me if you want to go eat." He looked at Harry expectantly. Harry quickly released his arms and stood up. His face was undoubtedly bright red from blushing. Marvolo stood up and began walking to the door; Harry quickly followed after him. They were quiet the entire way to the dining room and it was not until they were sitting across from each other that Harry decided to speak up.

"Do you feel better? I mean...did talking about it help?" He was exceedingly nervous. He did not want to accidentally say something to ruin their progress but he also did not want their progress to stagnate. Marvolo paused with a fork part of the way to his mouth and seemed to think about what he had been asked. After a pause, he answered.

"It would seem...that talking has made me calm down at least a little bit." His words were slow as if they took a lot of effort to admit. They were words said by someone who was not used to accepting help from others. Someone who was used to bearing their burdens alone. At his response, Harry smiled. It felt big and bright. He was truly happy that he had helped in some way. He wanted to help Marvolo. He wanted to make progress with his soulmate and listening to the man rant was a small price to pay to do so. Marvolo seemed a bit stunned at his smile and quickly returned to eating. Harry was not put off by the man's silence. He was much too happy from the turn of events. Anyhow, the silence was comfortable as they both ate their fill. After they finished, they both retreated to the sitting room. Harry felt a sense of warmth at the familiarity of the situation. They both sat in their respective chairs and looked out at the relaxing view, tea between them.

Harry turned his head at the sound of Marvolo clearing his voice. "I...apologize for what I said to you. It was uncouth of me." The words were strained. Each word seemed to weigh a hundred pounds and took an immense amount of effort to voice. But, they did not feel insincere. They felt as real as words could feel. Words that had never been said by this person before. A laugh bubbled out of Harry. Marvolo turned to him quickly, frustration on his face. Before he could speak, Harry did.

"I am not laughing at you! I am simply happy, I guess. I did not expect such an apology from you. I...thank you. I forgive you. Just, in the future, if you feel so consumed by your emotions again, just talk to me you know? I'll listen, and I am sure you will feel better. It is okay to get angry sometimes. It's just not okay to take that out on others and to bottle it up inside." While speaking, Harry daringly reached over and grasped Marvolo's hand. He held on tight to it. Marvolo just stared at him with an unreadable expression before giving a simple nod. His hand turned over and his fingers laced with Harry's. They did not speak for the rest of the night and they went their separate ways to bed, but the air felt lighter. Happier. Harry felt happy. He knew that this all would take more. He knew that they both needed to grow a lot before things were all said and done. He was sure that even once the curse was broken that they would have much to do. But, for now, the progress that had been made was enough to give him peace.

 

***

Next Chapter Title: Arrogance 

Summary: Harry still felt a bit overwhelmed by everything that took place with Marvolo, but it seemed fate wanted them to move forward. Now, he was suddenly faced with someone who had an obsessive need for perfection. Not only that, this version of his soulmate seemed determined to shape Harry into the same perfection that he sought. Harry was not quite sure how to handle this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading! The next chapter is giving me a bit of struggle so I am not quite sure when it will be up. My goal is to have it in a week or so. Heres hoping!  
> Also, I'm on tumblr with the same username, feel free to talk to me!


	4. Arrogance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry still felt a bit overwhelmed by everything that took place with Marvolo, but it seemed fate wanted them to move forward. Now, he was suddenly faced with someone who had an obsessive need for perfection. Not only that, this version of his soulmate seemed determined to shape Harry into the same perfection that he sought. Harry was not quite sure how to handle this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Once again, thank you so much for all of the kudos, comments, and bookmarks. They make me giddy! I apologize that this chapter took a bit longer than the past ones. I was having a hard time getting inspired about what to write. But, suddenly, tonight I got motivation and somehow managed to crank out like 3600 words. I'm not sure how that happened but I won't question it! Thank you so much for reading!

Harry awoke jarringly to a loud banging on his door. He felt dazed and confused. He had not been woken up like this since arriving here. He was usually allowed to wake up in his own time. He stumbled out of bed, almost forgetting to grab his glasses, before awkwardly opening the door. His eyes widened at the sight and his sleep addled brain had a hard time processing what he was seeing. Standing in front of the door, with arms crossed, was undoubtedly a younger Marvolo. He looked younger than Harry by a bit, maybe sixteen? His hair was shorter and curled slightly over his forehead, and most remarkably, his eyes were a pale gray, like the beginnings of a storm. After staring at him for a bit, he realized the look of impatience on his face.

"Still sleeping? Honestly, how could you make me wait at breakfast for so long? It's rude." His voice was haughty and entitled.

"E-excuse me?" Harry was very caught off guard by this situation.

"You're excused." He looked Harry up and down and wrinkled his nose. "Hurry up and get dressed so you can come to breakfast. Do not keep me waiting much longer." He gave a conceited huff before turning and making his way to the dining room. A disbelieving laugh left Harry. Well, this must be Tom Riddle's arrogance. This was certainly uncharted territory for Harry. He quickly moved about the room, using the restroom and getting dressed before heading to the dining room. It would most likely be in his best interest to not keep the man (boy? he was younger now) waiting.

Once he entered the dining room, he was gifted the same haughty look as earlier. The younger Marvolo was held up by pride. He exuded vibes of someone who truly thought themselves better than anyone. He held himself primly and tall. He looked like a rich heir. Harry remembered Voldemort's words. He remembered that this version of his soulmate was so desperately trying to overcome his past. To be the perfect, cultured boy. He was sure it was exhausting to hold yourself to such high standards.

"Soo," Harry began as he sat down "would you like me to continue to call you Marvolo or..." He trailed off and looked expectantly at him. His soulmate's nose wrinkled slightly at his words. Harry squashed the thought that it was almost endearing.

"You can call me Riddle." His words were short and to the point. Harry gave a nod and began eating his breakfast. He was very unsure about where to go from this point. However, he was pretty sure that if he waited long enough, Riddle would start talking himself. If the past two versions proved anything, it was that his soulmate seemed to quite enjoy hearing himself talk. Harry kept stealing glances at Riddle while they ate. He seemed to move in a very controlled and precise way. As if he had practiced and planned exactly how he should be moving. His bites were small; he never put more in his mouth than what would be considered polite. Even the way he dabbed his face with his napkin seemed controlled. This was someone who desperately wanted to project himself as put together and above others. Marvolo did it with more ease, assumedly from more years of practice. Riddle did not seem awkward in his movements, just very exact. It was not unnatural per se, but almost rigid. Harry was snapped out of his thoughts by a clearing of a throat. He looked up to make eye contact with Riddle. Riddle was giving him a scrutinizing look that Harry was sure would not bode well for him.

"So, you are my soulmate. This is something that apparently cannot be changed so we must work on what can be changed." His voice was very sure and definite in a way that showed that he expected to be unquestionably listened to. "You need to meet the standards of a pureblood heir. I will not have my soulmate be anything less than perfect. Are you finished eating?" Harry wordlessly nodded, a bit caught off guard by what had been said so far. At his nod, Riddle waved his hand and suddenly the table was clear except for empty plates and silverware. "We will start with proper dining techniques, currently yours are abysmal." Harry winced at his words. Dining techniques? Was there such a thing? Harry had never really eaten in any formal situations before. He usually ate standing, eating what little his family deigned to give him that night. To hear that he was apparently abysmal in the way that he ate did not necessarily help his already lacking self-confidence. Harry knew he was eons behind other people. His situation growing up did not allow him the same experiences as others. He did not put much thought into eating beyond that he needed to eat all of what little he got. He knew his appearance was probably lacking as well. He never had the luxury of caring about his appearance. Riddle, on the other hand, seemed to care very much about all of these things. His words were a bit harsh, but... he was trying was he not? Marvolo had immediately scorned Harry but Riddle at least acknowledged him and was going to help him in his own roundabout way. It was not much, but it was a start. Because of that, he nodded and looked at Riddle expectantly. Riddle, noticing Harry's attention and focus nodded approvingly before going right into explaining all the different dishes and silverware and their proper uses.

Riddle was a very good teacher in his own way. He was not gentle when Harry made mistakes, but he was not overly harsh either. He was very no-nonsense. However, the way he taught and explained everything made sense to Harry. He was thorough and consistently made sure Harry understood before moving on to the next point. Harry actually did feel like he was learning things. After about an hour or so, Riddle called it for the day. He did not praise Harry in any way, but he did seem to be pleased. At least it looked like that. After the table was cleared, Harry anxiously asked if Riddle would like to go to the sitting room with him. Much to Harry's dismay, Riddle declined, stating that he had other things he had to take care of and then promptly swept out of the room. Harry felt disheartened by this but tried his best to stay in good spirits. This morning, barring the awkward wakeup, had gone well. They did not fight, and Riddle did not seem to totally despise him so that was good. It was an awfully low bar, Harry was willing to admit, but any progress was better than none.

Harry eventually got up and went to the sitting room himself. Tea appeared like always and Harry stared out the window mulling over his thoughts. He thought back to Voldemort's words about this version of himself and how he would probably need to lighten up. Harry pursed his lips. He figured this time around, it was going to be getting Riddle's approval that would be hard. Harry did not really mind his arrogance so far. He did not see anything gravely wrong about the pride he held in himself. For now, that is. Harry was a bit worried about what this arrogance could mean for him. Riddle had already made it clear that Harry was not up to his standards and that was a blow to him. Voldemort always seemed to think Harry was the greatest thing and saw no issue with his appearance or habits. That was nice, especially when in his past he was constantly scorned and berated by his family. He sighed deeply. He would just have to be strong and do his best to reach Riddle. He would have to be patient.  

***

Riddle did not show up for lunch and Harry felt dismayed by this. He shook his head and decided he would try to seek Riddle out. He wanted to connect with the boy. The first place Harry decided to check was the office. He knocked on the door and waited a few seconds. When there was no response, he slowly pushed open the door and peeked inside. At the sight of the empty room he huffed and closed the door. The library was much the same. Harry had not really seen much of the manor besides these few rooms and the garden, so he was lost about where to go next. He ended up picking a hallway and just walking through it. After about three hallways of no luck, he passed a room in which he heard noise from inside. He cautiously opened the door and he was shocked by what he saw. The room was large and held similarities to a gymnasium. Riddle was in the center dressed in a simple white shirt and trousers. He was facing what seemed like a stuffed person with a target on its chest. A training dummy? Harry had not ever seen one but there was not much else that it could be. The weirdest part was that Riddle was holding a long, white stick and pointing it at the dummy. He was saying words that Harry did not recognize and waving the stick in precise patterns. Harry saw lights come out of the stick and go towards the dummy, one of them even cut off its head. It was like magic. Harry could not contain his gasp at the sight. At the sound, Riddle turned to him. Harry was staring at him in wide-eyed awe. Riddle raised an eyebrow at him and gestured for him to come closer. Harry quickly complied.

"I... what are you doing? It... was like magic." Harry's voice was colored by his amazement. A light, amused glint flashed in Riddle's eyes.

"That's because it was magic. I'm a wizard." His voice was confident. He obviously held great pride in this fact. Harry gaped at him.

"A wizard? Magic? T-that's amazing!" Harry beamed at Riddle. Riddle's eyes widened just barely before a proud smirk stretched across his face.

"Yes, it is isn't it?" The smugness was rolling off Riddle in waves. He was practically preening under the attention.

"What is that exactly?" Harry questioned pointing towards the stick Riddle was holding.

"This is my wand. It functions as a conduit for my magic." He held the wand up proudly for Harry to examine. Harry was in total awe.

"M-may I hold it? Just for a second. I swear I will give it right back." Harry's voice was barely above a whisper. He figured this was a hopeless cause, but it could not hurt to try. Something in him ached to hold the wand. He had to restrain himself from just reaching out and grabbing it. Riddle looked at him appraisingly and pursed his lips.

"For just a moment." He stated and then held the wand out for Harry. Harry beamed at him and reached for the wand. When he touched it, he felt a warmth run through him and then much to his surprise red sparks shot out of the end of the wand. Harry gasped. Riddle, too, seemed very surprised. Then, a smile pulled across Riddle's lips. Harry was caught off guard by the genuine smile and felt a bit dizzy at the sight of it. Riddle reached over a grasped Harry's shoulders and looked into his eyes.

"You're a wizard!" His voice held an excitement that Harry did not expect. "Of course, you are! My soulmate would not be a muggle - non-magic person. Oh, this is wonderful. Obviously, you're way behind where you should be at this age but no matter. I am the best wizard in the world, I definitely can teach you." Harry felt very overwhelmed by the whole situation and he could not stop his legs from shaking.

"I'm...a wizard?" His voice shook. Suddenly, so many things in his life came into clarity. The time when he was running from Dudley and was suddenly somewhere else. The time his aunt cut his hair and it grew right back. Harry's hands shook. He thought of all the times his family called him a freak and sneered at his so-called freakishness. "Why did I not know?" His voice trembled.

"Dumbledore," Riddle's voice spat "I'm sure he is the reason. He kept you from the world you belonged to out of some sense of 'greater good'. The rotten old fool. He barred you from the wizarding world and left you to suffer by the hands of those filthy muggles because he thought it was right." Riddle's voice was now furious. "You should have gone to Hogwarts. The wizarding school. You should have received a letter when you turned eleven. You should have been able to practice and learn magic like all witches and wizards. You are better than those muggles. You are greater and yet you were treated like filth. I will kill that old man when I find him."

At this point, Harry had sunk to the ground. He felt like crying. He was a wizard. He should have been able to escape the Dursleys and go to a wizarding school. Harry felt very cheated. He felt despaired. Suddenly, Riddle was crouched in front of him once again gripping his shoulders. "Do not worry, Harry. I will teach you magic." His voice was sure. Harry smiled weakly at him. He handed the wand back to Riddle and he took it and slipped into his pocket. He then held out a hand towards Harry. Harry took it and let himself be pulled to his feet. Riddle did not let go of his hand and began leading him out of the room. Eventually, they found themselves back to the office and Riddle let go of his hand. He walked over to the desk and opened a drawer. He pulled out a long, rectangle box and set it on the table.

"I was never sure why this was here but now I understand." He opened it and inside laid another wand. This one was light brown in color. He pulled it out and held it to Harry. "This is yours." Harry sucked in a breath and shakily reached for the wand. When he took hold of it, he felt warmth much like when he held Riddle's wand but only it was more intense. He felt happy as the wand seemed to hum in his hand. Harry let out a laugh and looked up to Riddle. Riddle smirked at him.

"I will begin teaching you magic alongside your other etiquette lessons." Harry winced slightly at thought of the etiquette lessons, but he was far too excited about magic to be too upset. "But, for now, we should eat dinner. I expect you to remember what I taught you this morning." His voice slipped back into his 'teacher voice' that he used when instructing Harry this morning. Harry gulped. He hoped he remembered more than he thought he did. 

***

Dinner went about as well as it could. Harry did some things right and messed up others. Riddle was always quick to correct him sharply. Harry felt discouraged every time. He tried to not let his mistakes get to him but after a past filled with people getting upset with him, every correction felt a bit like a stab. He just had to keep trying. Tomorrow was a new day and he would hopefully do better then. After dinner, they parted ways. Harry decided to retire to his room. He showered and then got into bed. Sitting in bed he held his wand reverently. His own wand. He had magic! The reminder of this overshadowed Harry's disappointment with dinner. He ended up falling asleep with a smile on his face. 

***

The next few days flew by in a blur. Mealtimes were spent with Harry giving a valiant effort at following the seemingly arbitrary rules. He was slowly improving which was the best he could ask for. Riddle had also begun teaching him about the proper attire - Harry was not sure how he felt about the so-called 'wizarding robes' - and how to handle himself when meeting people. He taught about how he should control his emotions and stand tall. It was all a bit difficult for Harry to grasp. And his mistakes had really begun weighing on him. However, the best part of it all, that made the hard parts worth it, were his magic lessons. Riddle was a good teacher in everything he taught but he really shined when teaching magic. His passion for the topic shined through beautifully. He explained everything in ways Harry could easily grasp. Harry could already perform a few basic charms. He could cast the Lumos charm and wingardium leviosa. Riddle also spent a lot of time on magical theory as well. He explained to Harry the different types of magic and how they tied into one's magical cores. On top of all of that, Riddle taught him the basics to potion making. Everything was incredibly exciting to Harry and he found himself soaking everything up eagerly. Riddle still did not hand out praise, but he would occasionally nod at Harry approvingly and Harry felt like floating when that happened.

However, despite all of this, Harry felt a bit stagnate about their progress. He was hard-pressed to get Riddle to hang out with him outside of all these lessons. In fact, Riddle always seemed to quickly disappear whenever he deemed a certain lesson to be finished for the day. Harry quickly learned that in these times, Riddle was off improving himself. Harry had seen him in the training room practicing, or in the library furiously studying multiple times. It seemed that despite holding himself in very high regard, Riddle did not find that to be enough. He constantly was striving to be better and better. He desperately wanted to overcome his past. He wanted to rise above everyone else and it showed. Harry thought it seemed exhausting. He could not imagine living in such a way with seemingly no downtime. Furthermore, to hold oneself to such impossibly high standards seemed unbearable. After a week of this pattern, Harry resolved to force Riddle to hang out with him. At the end of yet another etiquette lesson, Harry snagged Riddle's wrist before he could leave the room. Riddle turned to look at him and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Yes?"

"D-do you want to walk through the garden with me? I understand you're busy and like to practice and such, but I thought it would be nice for us to get some fresh air, and um you could tell me about the flowers and plants that I do not recognize. Maybe even if they have uses for potions..." Harry trailed off weakly. He knew that he was on the verge of rambling, but he was very nervous at the prospect of rejection. Riddle stared at him blankly. Harry felt himself shrinking under the gaze. After what felt like hours, Riddle let out a heavy sigh.

"I suppose that would be acceptable." Happiness surged through Harry and he felt himself beam up at Riddle. His hand slipped down his wrist and grasped Riddle's hand. Riddle's eyes widened, caught off guard by Harry's enthusiasm. And much to Harry's surprise, a slight pink warmed across Riddle's cheeks. He quickly turned away to hide this. Harry's heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest at the sight. Not wanting to give him a chance to change his mind, he quickly stood up and began leading Riddle to the garden. He did not let go of his hand. He wanted to keep holding it. The entire way there Harry let himself ramble about what he knew about the garden so far. He could not contain his excitement and his words were filled with enthusiasm. Riddle, to his credit, seemed to be diligently listening. Harry felt giddy at the sight of the garden when they got outside. He turned to Riddle and smiled at him. He explained what parts of the garden he was unfamiliar with and waited for Riddle's explanations to start. Riddle gripped his hand for a second before turning to one of the areas and began talking about the plants. Harry listened happily and piped in a few times to ask questions or give thoughts. Each time he did this, Riddle listened closely. After a few hours, they arrived at the white gazebo that sat in the middle of the garden. In it was a small bench that Harry pulled them over to. Once sitting he turned to the boy next to him.

"Thank you for this. I have been wanting to just hang out with you. It means a lot to me. I like freely talking with you." Harry's words were sincere as he tightened his hold on the other boy's hand. Riddle once again looked away and Harry saw the pink blush on his cheeks. Harry felt himself blushing at the sight.

"I-I never have been around someone so enthusiastic to be with me before, I must admit." Riddle's words were slow. Slow like this was something he never expected to say. It was not a sentence that was a part of his carefully practiced repertoire of appropriate conversation. He turned to look back at Harry, an unreadable expression on his face but his eyes were soft.

"I have never enjoyed hanging out with someone like I do with you. As I am sure you know, my childhood was less than desirable. But you, you are someone who also had a bad childhood and yet you have overcome that. You really are great. You're a great teacher and a great wizard. I feel a bit unworthy to be your soulmate." Harry's sentence trailed off sadly as his own insecurities began to rear their ugly heads again. Riddle again looked at him with wide eyes. He looked as if he had never been praised so openly before. So sincerely. Harry's heart ached at the thought. "I am trying my best. I want to be worthy of you. But it is a bit hard, I must admit. However, I am willing to keep trying. I really admire you. I-I want you to be proud of me." Harry's words ended at barely above a whisper. He really did admire Riddle. He had overcome his past in Harry's mind. He had become something greater. Something to marvel at. Harry, unfortunately, felt incredibly lacking in comparison.

"Harry." He looked up at the sound of his name. Riddle was looking at him with an intense look in his eyes. "You are greater than you know. You did not have the opportunity to escape your past as I did. However, despite your disadvantage, you are making great progress. I know I am not one to dish out compliments or praise freely and... I apologize if this has affected you. But I am proud of you." He words were sure. His free hand had reached up to grasp Harry's other hand and he held them clasped between them. He looked directly into Harry's eyes and his sincerity showed through. Uncontrollably, Harry felt himself tear up. He sniffled. Without another thought, he flung himself at Riddle and hugged him tightly. His buried his face in the other's neck and tried to calm his tears. Riddle's arms instantly wrapped around him and gripped him tight as he let out a shaky breath. Riddle hugged him as if he had never been hugged before. This thought only made Harry hold on tighter.

"I'm proud of you too," Harry whispered into his neck. Riddle sucked in a breath and buried his face in Harry's hair.

"Thank you, Harry. I have never had someone praise me so blatantly before. It's nice."

The two of them sat there for a while. Occasionally one of them would say something and they would have a short conversation about anything and everything. They also had periods where they simply sat in silence and enjoyed the other's presence. Eventually, they did break for dinner. This time, Riddle went out of his way to praise Harry when he did something right and when correcting him, he seemed gentle. Harry could not stop smiling. Riddle did not even correct him on schooling his emotions for he himself had a small smile on his face the whole time. They retreated to the sitting room after dinner. Over tea, Riddle opened up to Harry. He talked about his past at the orphanage and how he was bullied when first arriving at Hogwarts. He also extensively talked about the school. He spun tales to Harry about the grand castle he considered his home. Harry listened attentively the whole time, smiling through it all. At some point during this all, they had grabbed each other's hands and were holding on tight. The two of them finding comfort in each other like nothing else. Every time Riddle would smile at him, Harry felt light and airy. And when he actually made Riddle laugh at one point, he thought he could not be happier. Riddle's eyes were soft when he looked at him. Everything felt peaceful.

*** 

Next Chapter Title: Fear 

Summary: A grave new challenge awaits Harry the next day. The physical personification of his soulmate's fear. Harry himself is not very skilled at dealing with fear. Suddenly faced with someone else who struggles with the same issues, Harry feels a bit lost. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for reading! I hope you enjoyed. If you ever want to talk about anything, I'm on tumblr under the same username!

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think! Talk to me! I love this ship and need friends who love it as well lol


End file.
